In tune
by robacsam
Summary: Varian isn't normal, and It worries his father more than he'd like to admit
1. Chapter 1

It started with a fire, just a small one for a small boy who just barrowed a new book from a scholar in town. Quirin didn't know why he had to barrow it, it wasn't like they were lacking in books. Normally, the boy got a new Flynn Rider book from the stall in the market once a month, saved up all of his pocket money for the lastest installment. But this book Varian swore was different, his father figured it couldn't do any harm, his son may be smart but he didn't think the boy could understand all of what that book said, not yet anyway. And he was right becuase coming upstairs to get the boy, he found his desk slightly ablaze. Once the fire was out Quirin asked the child -who just lost another baby tooth and had those wide, wide, eyes like his mother- exactly what happened. He was a smart boy, he knew to be careful with candles. But it wasn't a candle, well not exactly, it was some idea the boy had. Something about a candle that's harder to blow out when combined with- this combing things was the issue and it was just the start.  
As Varian got older his interest in these combining of things grew, and Quirin was a little worried when he got better at it. Or at least more daring.  
The scholar in town who sparked this interest had only seen the first of one mass-scale failure. He was old by then, and Varian still came to him for books and knowledge. He was 12 when going through the narrow streets to the house full of hand-written books, that he was surprised to find his father there on the steps chatting with the old man. Most of the words were lost on the child, but he got just close enough to hear his father say.  
"Thank you, he doesn't need this stuff." And walk off. Quirin hoped this put an end to it, an end to his laying awake at night worrying over the lastest small fire, or mass-accident. The last one they had to rebuild their roof. But though the scholar had stopped providing the infomation, he still lite the spark.  
That night they'd caught a raccoon, and Quirin and the men did what you do with vermin: they were drowned in the river, the same with gophers who dug up crops, and rats who came with sicknesses. When Quirin returned he found the boy asleep, the expensive parchment he had for his lessons were covered in doodles, it looked like a raccoon in a puddle. Quirin didn't think anything of it and simply put the boy to bed and the papers away. He could still use the other side for school.  
But it continued still, Quirin found himself waking with a jolt many times when Varian was older now, his dreams filled with the lastest, or any damage, the pipes scare was she happens this time. If that large pipe had landed any other way- he didn't want to think about it. He certainly hated remembering Varian caused it. After he'd wake he'd raise to go to the outhouse, he could just use his chamber pot but going all the way to the outside gave him a reason to pass Varian's room. It calmed his heartbeat to see a sleeping figure in the bed. But Quirin knew one day his worst fear could happen. It was late fall, the harvest almost done, Quirin had planned to help out a little late into the workday than normal. But then the explosion. It wasn't anything compared to other ones, no buildings were actually destroyed. At least, nothing that couldn't be repaired. The walk home though was quiet.  
The two entered the house, it's warm stove fire already glowing and seeping in from the kitchen. Verian quietly and awkwardly rubbed his forearm, waiting for...somethjng. Quirin didn't even turn around as he went to the fireplace to start stacking logs.  
"Dad? I'm-"  
"I know, Varian." The man sighed as he stood up.  
"You know?"  
"I know you didn't mean it. You never mean it." He came over and finally looked at his son, but still he wasn't making eye contact as he wiped some of his hair to one side, a small amount of blood had gathered around a small gash, but it was an injury nonetheless. He started to get the iodide, and a rag to clean it. He said nothing as he cleaned it and Varian bit no lip from the pain. He held the rag there as his dad turned back to starting the fire.

"So? Uh," Varian asked, "do you want me to help with cleaning-?"  
"No."  
"But you normally have me-"  
"Not this time. Varian-" He sighed again. "You need to stop this. What happened to you? Why can't you be like the other kids your age?!" That part had not meant to come out at all. Yes, Quirin loved his son, but he'd also love if all he had to worry about with him was puberty, the occasional bad date with a bad girl, a lack of interest in school! Something like other teenagers. He turned around as fast as he could but the door upstairs was already fairy heard shifting. He couldn't even slam a door like kids his age.  
With nothing else on his mind, Quirin sighed and walked into the small kitchen. He grabbed the kettle off of the stove and used the water pump to fill it. He set the kettle on the burner before getting some ale from the rack, seasons from another rack, and setting a small pot of the stuff to warm. Finally he got out two mugs, filled one half-way with the warm water, and half with the warmed ale, the second mug with all ale and both spiced. In total it took around fifteen, maybe twenty mintues. They didnt have a need for instantly hot water Quirin thought, the kettle was fine. Carefully he grabbed both of the mugs and started up the stairs. He did knock, but then entered the small room on the left anyway. A bit of candle was lite on the desk,the bed was still a mess from the moring- but there was no boy anywhere in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

The second the large man saw the empty room he never dropped a tray of mugs so fast. He pounded down his staircase, grabbed a cloak, and lite a lamp to head out. At first he just went around the house to look at the ground below Varian's window. The little sneak had used from old storage from the cellar to climb out. But hadnt accounted for an evening rain that muddied up the ground. Quirin at least saw his son went south. South? The fields? The orchard? The boy never went there. He had no need.  
Quirin's son was a schalor at heart, not a feildsmen like himself. He struggled just to bring in larger stacks of wood in the winter. But nevertheless it was his best lead and he was panicking. So south he went. If Varian was in the fields, Quirin thought, or had been that way maybe some men would still be out and had seen him pass by. With the sun going down it was unlikely, but he had to try. Every few steps Quriran would look one way and then the other, being sure he didn't miss any trace. He couldn't lose Varian.  
Just as he passed the last of the buildings in the village proper to the fields he spotted a small match light out of the corner of his eyes. He noticed to youths, hurriedly trying to smoke a pipe- but all Quirin saw was the student uniforms. Surely they had to know his boy, there were only a handful of student's varian's age in the village, most didn't need school beyond the basics.  
One made an attempt to hide it behind his back as he came up.  
"Boys-"  
"Ah! - uh, hi!" The first one smiled.  
"Yeah, how's it going?" Asked the second quickly.  
"You haven't seen my son go this way have you?"  
"Son? Uh- oh! Stultus!*- Varian, right." The second said quickly. "Yeah he's in our Latin class- we uhx maybe saw him going near that old are by the Apple trees?"  
"Thank you," and he went off again quickly. The students he left behind just sighed as they pulled the pipe back out to resume lot couching than smoking.  
If Quirin told every child in the village once, he told Varian fifty times not to play in those old buildings. The foundations had been uprooted by the older trees years ago, it was hardly even safe for animals to live there.

Varian had just slipped out, he needed a distraction, he needed to think, he needed to see if he could do...something. his chemeicals, his elements gave him moments to behimself. If he could think of a way that did more help than harm, then maybe his dad would understand it. At least a little bit. He poured through notes and math that he even forgot he was upset for a time. He was in the middle of seeing the reaction to some slightly, warmed chemicals to refill hifam s traps for the raccoons when he heard the door behind him creek open.

*AN: from what I understand Stultus roughly is an insulting word for "fool' or 'idiot.'


	3. Chapter 3

AN: please note this idea came long before "Queen for a day", which go against what I use in this story. Noticeably the labs location.

"Varian?" Quirin stepped inside slowly, he expected cobwebs, and dust but he didn't expect the lights and the books, papers and test tubes everywhere. Children were told not to play in here, the walls had crumbled in certain areas. Cobwebs piled up in the corner over books, Quirin did question where the books had been disappearing to, Varian said he lent a few out. Which wasn't totally uncommon even with libraries existing in better cities, they certainly didn't exsist here. His eyes adjusted to a dim, unearthly glow as he took note of his sons slime outline trying to hide something.  
"Dad?!"  
"Varian- what- you know this place is off limits." The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadnt noticed the glow behind his son changing slight colors, he could barely make out the test-tubes, jars, one of which looked like a flask (Oh if only underage nin-ale drinking was a problem for his son, Quirin almost caught himself thinking.) "Nevermind that- we need to go home, it's late."  
"Uh, alright Dad, just one-" Varian said as he turned back to his little project.  
"Now, Varian. It's late. We need to talk."  
'Great,' Varian taught, what on earth could he be yelled at for tonight. But he had to work fast and added a drop of something blue into this expanding light behind him. Thankfully it fizzled out into a small smoke just in time. Varian's chest got a little taught, and he coughed, thankfully he wore his goggles, but was pulled from the small mess by the back of his shirt and his father's strong arm. When he removed his goggles, he let out a cough, and with sad dark eyes peeking out from the soot that engulfed his face.  
"It's okay, I can fix it-" then quickly added "in the morning..hehe." upon seeing his father's somehow even more stern face.

The walk back was quiter than normal. Normally on walks, Varian's tiny voice could chitter-charter for hours about something he'd read or had an idea on, and Quirin would listen as best he could. But tonight Varian walked a few feet behind his dad instead of in front. The streetlights had been lite and most people were in their homes as the sun had gone down. Fianlly, as they rounded the corner to the house, Quirin, for once, cleared his throat to speak on one of their walks:  
"Did I ever tell you about my father?" He asked slowly. In fact it csught Varian off-gaurd, the man hardly ever spoke about his mother (save for some holidays) or any thing involving the past.  
"Grandpa Darian? Uh, no..." He picked up his pace at this in order to keep up with his father's long strides.  
"Well, he was a priest."  
"A priest of Carona?" Varian asked, only mentally pausing as he realized that was impossible for them to then exsist.  
"No- no, son. This was before Carona. Anyway, your grandfather dedicated his life to pouring over and pondering scrolls, rituals, medicines, prayer.." Qurian almost sounded like he was naming of a grocery list. "And you know what his father did before him?"  
"Uuuhh, judging by the last answer I'm going to guess- also a priest?" Varian was still trying to wrap his head around that.  
Quirin almost laughed "your great-Grandfather, Darian the Elder, was a general. And a very warlike one at that. He welded swords, sheilds, short and long, he lead his people to untold amount of victories."  
"Woah!" Varian was both amazed with his wide eyes, and feeling somewhat small in comparison to these awesome men, it didn't help earlier wounds to his pride were still fresh, but he tried to press on. "So what happened to wherever this "before-Carona" place? Like how come we aren't still there?"  
"...that's a story for when you're a little older.." quirin tried to say.  
"You always say that when we finally start talking!"  
"Varian- please..." then he made the mistake of looking at those wonderful eyes he helped make, and sighed. Thinking the boy didnt have to know everything. Though half of him wanted to still stay quiet, Varian always wanted to know everything. Still, he figured he could answer it a little bit.

"Well, the place dosen't exsist anymore."  
"Oh...can I ask why?"  
"Essentially, Darian the elder could not decide which of his sons to succeed him so this caused in-fighting and...my point was Varian," the teen frowned at the changing subject, but his father continued. "Darian the elder, and the younger, were both so different. A warrior's son being a priest? Can you imagtion? And then the same thing repeated itself..."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well Darian was my father and-"  
"He was disappointed in you?!" Now Varian was even more amazed.

Quirin had memories of meals with his family at the long table. They were never bad, but a little different. He could recall his father's strong-thin silhouette alight by the fire, as he sat with his elbows on the table in some lazy manner, as he often did when in thought. His robe was a common color that, Quirin recalled, did conceal either a short sword or dagger. But if he asked about it, Darian the Younger just told his son there wasn't one there. He was seeing things, of course. It wasn't until he was nearly an adult he learned that his father's weapon, and a surprising amount of skill with said weapon, was much more for defense.  
On the other side of the Younger, often say Darian the elder, who made no secret of his weapons or skill, and if it wasn't for his grandmother, Quirin was sure Grandfather would have kept his much more pointy weapons on at all times, instead they sat on another table as the meal went on. The air was normally joyous, but their were dinners Quirin could recall were a bit tense, and you could occasionally hear a difference in the boasting tone of Darian the Elder when discussing matters to be proud of, with a slight frown when he finished. Quirin could recall his father had a similar manner, and voice. Neither one just knew exactly what to say on the subject matter of the next generation, and he remebered the words spoken to him:  
 _"It's not that I'm not proud, son it's just...there are other things you could do with your life. Picking up a sword and shield is a sad necessity of this life, not a career."_ But those eyes were clearly disappointed Quirin's path in took him closer to the road of grandfather than anyone else. And Darian had those same eyes look down on him when his own path turned away from that road.

"What? Where did you get that?"

Varian knew he should pay attention more when he talks and looked away, "I-I just mean..uh, nevermind?" He shrugged but it never worked on Dad.

Quirin sighed, "you know I'm not disappointed in you...my point was that...with our family, I shouldnt expect you to be different..."  
They'd gotten to the front steps of the house now. "And I'm sorry for losing my temper. But son you can't run off like that again you- you know better."  
"...I know, I'm sorry, Dad." Varain hung his head and paused inside, until he felt strong hands on both shoulders.  
"It's Alright son, but if you still want to help me clean something there's some ale in your room."  
Somehow this moment caused both of them to smile a little bit as they went to go about their night, Quirin shut the front door on a full autumn moon overlooking their little home.


End file.
